


Hoppípolla

by priscilacross



Series: Wild World [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilacross/pseuds/priscilacross
Summary: He stood in the middle of the field, arms wide open. With closed eyes, he turned his face to the skies, welcoming the pouring rain. And that's how Jim found him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/gifts).



> Says part 2 of Wild World series, but they can be read separately. It's just that I imagine these to be in the same universe.
> 
> Y'already know how bad I am at descriptions so hopefully you won't be dissapointed by this little fic. It's written in Oswald's point of view  
> This was written entirely on my phone so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Title from the Sigur Rós song Hoppipolla, which translates from Icelandic as 'jumping into puddles' recommended listen(8
> 
> For #gobblepotspring2018 prompt: Puddles

Thunderstorms have always been Oswald's favorite. They remind him of better days. His mother and him used to watch her old shows in their apartment. They used to cradle mugs of hot chocolate and eat palacsinta for dinner. Many times, he had tried to recreate his mother's cooking, but failed miserably every time. He could never even get the hot chocolate right. He always added too many cloves, or there was something missing. He gave up a long time ago. He didn’t like the store bought stuff. The entire box of individual packets minus one lies forgotten in one of his cupboards. 

He remembers how after the storm had passed, his mom would take him for walks in the humid Gotham. She always did love the smell of rain. To Oswald, Gotham just smelled like a rotting cardboard underneath the rain now. Being away from the city did him good. He still loves days like this, until they become a reminder of what he doesn't have anymore. He remembers him and his mom jumping into puddles without rain boots. Then they would go back home, and she would prepare a bath for him. He smiled at the memory as he stared out into the Van Dahl fields, rain pouring hard. 

Oswald wasn't always fond of his mind. Always overthinking and bringing pleasant memories. Those good memories were often too difficult to deal with. He missed his mother, he missed her hugs, and he missed looking into her eyes, and he missed her smile. He took a deep breath, deciding to open the window and let the smell of the wet fields fill his nostrils. The sound of rain and thunder overwhelming his senses, making him tremble to the core. It was only morning and the storm was supposed to pass in the afternoon. He decided to go outside nevertheless.

He'd forgone his umbrella, wanting to feel the rain against him. The cold drops hitting his clothed body, reminding him he was still alive; even if he didn't feel like it sometimes. Oswald thought it was paradoxical how rain could make him feel so blithe, yet so melancholic at the same time. 

He stood in the middle of the field, arms wide open. With closed eyes, he turned his face to the skies, welcoming the pouring rain. And that's how Jim found him. 

“Jesus Oswald, what the hell are you doing out here? It's freezing cold!” the detective called out. 

“Jim,” Oswald stated, eyes blinking open, unfocused. He was still somewhat lost in his reverie. 

“Yes, it's me. Now, let's go back inside,” Jim fussed.

Once inside, Oswald became aware of the way his clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably. 

“What brings you here, detective?” Oswald's voice was passive, like he's still in a trance.

Jim shrugs, “Wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard about Nygma turning on you. Again.” He said all too annoyed. 

“Ah. Yes, I'm quite alright, thank you,” Oswald said staring up into Jim's eyes. “You're a good friend, Jim.”

Oswald knew Jim cared about him. Even if at the beginning of their relationship things seemed a bit rocky. Jim had accepted Oswald's insistent attempt at friendship with him a long time ago. Oswald knew Jim to be erratic and illogical when it came to most things. Somehow, in his madness, Jim found it himself to be an actual friend to him, and Oswald was thankful for this. They’ve known each other for years; their lines of work intertwined often. Oswald was glad Jim had finally realized it benefitted him most to work with him and not against. 

After spending so much time with Jim, Oswald had come to realize he loved him. From the very beginning. In every sense of the word, not just romantically. With Ed, he'd felt this infatuation, a dependency of sorts. He was jealous and insecure when he was with him. But with Jim, he knew his feelings would never be reciprocated, but he continued to love him all the same. 

From the very beginning, all he ever wanted was Jim’s happiness. Even if that meant sacrificing his own. When he arranged for him and Lee to leave Gotham before they busted Galavan, he didn't realize the extent of his love. But he knew now, he'll always have a soft spot for Jim Gordon. 

In a way, Oswald believes Jim also has a soft spot for him. Even being in opposite sides of the law, Jim was always looking out for him. Now more than ever, Jim proved his loyalty to him again and again. But Oswald guessed that was more because of Jim’s ever so fine-tuned moral compass rather than actual care for him. 

“Oswald… Oswald,” Jim's insistent voice called. “Come on Oswald, we need to get you out these clothes,” he said as he fumbled with Oswald's buttons. 

Oswald looked down at himself and noticed he was shivering. Jim walked him to the nearest bathroom and started to undress him. Oswald took over when Jim laid a finger on the button of his trousers. Jim turned the shower head on, checking with his hand to make sure the water was warm enough before leaving. 

When Oswald emerged from the bathroom, he was himself again. A towel wrapped around his body and another wrapped around his head. He walked to his room and changed into more comfortable clothes. He was sure the detective had left the mansion by now, he must have better things to do mid morning on a Saturday. But then he heard an explosion of sorts followed by an expletive coming from the kitchen. 

He walked into the kitchen. Found Jim Gordon wiping and hissing at his microwave while muttering profanities under his breath. Oswald couldn't help but laugh at the scene. The detective was trying so hard not to get burned. There was hot cocoa spilled everywhere.

“How long did you microwave that for?” Oswald managed to ask between chuckles.

“I don't know? Five minutes?” Jim replied, staring daggers at the microwave as if the appliance was at fault here.

Oswald bursts out laughing again. “That's much too long, Jim!”

“I'm sorry, I'm usually pretty good at this!” Jim tried to defend his honor. 

“I'm sure you are. If you wanted hot cocoa you could've just asked me to make you some.”

“Well, it wasn't for me. I just thought, well, I thought you might want something hot. Since... you know. I guess I could've also made tea, but then I don't know how to make tea properly either. I swear I've made hot cocoa before, it's just- stop looking at me like that, I'll stop talking now.”

Oswald shook his head and smiled. 

-

 

After they'd successfully made hot cocoa for both of them, they sat in the living room as they waited for the storm to cease. They sat next to each other, facing the window overlooking the fields.

“Why were you out there? You could've gotten sick,” Jim accused and took a careful sip of his hot drink. 

Oswald's face reflected the sadness brought upon him by thoughts of his mother. His eyes were cast down, and he brought the mug to his lips tasting the hot cocoa. Somehow it tasted better than he remembered. Jim hasn’t always been a good friend, but it’s moments like this where Oswald can appreciate the softness of Jim Gordon. 

“I always liked rainy days. Thunderstorms are always a plus. But there’s just something about spending a cloudy day inside, don’t you agree?” Jim asked, glowing softly under the cool light of the gray skies coming from the big windows. 

Oswald couldn’t help but smile at Jim’s attempt at starting conversation. Even after endless evening spent together, Jim was still hesitant to dig deeper than he thought Oswald was comfortable with. And Oswald would always appreciate that. But he wished Jim realized how comfortable it was to talk to him. Oswald would answer anything he asked. Sometimes he wondered if Jim knew, but simply chose not to exploit this. It was easy to talk to Jim because he understood. Jim has been there for the worst of Oswald, and Oswald has been there for the worst of Jim. 

“Yes, I do so love days like this. My mother would always make hot cocoa for us in this weather,” Oswald said with a smile and rosy cheeks from the hot drink.

“Glad I made the right choice then.”

“We would also always go jumping into puddles after the rain died down... are you planning on staying?” 

“Do you know how hard it is to drive in heavy rain? It’s horrible,” Jim said in lieu of a direct answer, smiling. 

Oswald smiled back, a shy smile. 

-

 

The rain died down a couple hours after Jim arrived at the mansion. Somehow Oswald and Jim ended up falling asleep on the couch. Sitting next to each other and with the warm sun shining on them after the skies had cleared up. Oswald rested his head on Jim’s shoulder, and their joined hands rested in Jim’s thigh. They'd talked about what made Oswald feel so dispirited, which in turn had exhausted Oswald emotionally. 

Oswald woke up to a pained neck, he groaned as he stirred awake and struggled to stretch, but he didn't mind. He smiled down at their intertwined fingers. 

“Jim… Jim, wake up,” he talked softly, trying to wake him up without startling him. 

Jim groaned and his hold tightened. It wasn't unbearably strong or uncomfortable, it felt nice. But Oswald's hands were getting a little wet now that he was aware of how intimate an act that was. 

He's held Jim’s hands before, for long periods of time too, but this seemed different. Jim had been comforting him when he grabbed his hand and started running his thumb over it. He didn't want Jim to wake up to the feeling of sweaty hands so he tried to slip it out, but Jim held it tight in place. 

Oswald groaned as he struggled. His eyes fixed on their hands, as if staring would help. Then he heard the tiniest of laughs coming from Jim. His head snapped up to look at Jim. He noticed the slight curve to his lips.

“Oh my god, you're awake, why would you torture me like this!” he complained, poking Jim's ribs and making the detective flinch. 

Full on laughter emerged from Jim, “I'm sorry, Oswald,” he could barely get the words out in between laughter. “You're so fucking cute, I swear to god.”

Oswald stopped at the comment, “What?” his eyes widened with curiosity and surprise. 

“Shit, did I say that out loud?” Oswald's thunderstruck face was answer enough. “Listen, I- you must've known. I spend half of my free time here with you. Hell, I free my time to be with you,” he continued. Oswald’s mouth hung low and Jim smiled.

Still holding Oswald’s sweaty hand, Jim got up and pulled the gangster with him. His wide smile making his eyes wrinkle at the corners. Oswald thought he was beautiful.

The detective rushed them outside, being mindful of Oswald's leg. The skies were clear now. The only proof the rain even happened was the glistening drops on the grass. There was a rainbow in the sky, it wasn't pronounced or magnificent, they almost never are. But rainbows are so rare in Gotham, even a pitiful one is a sight to see. 

Jim finally let go of his hand; he was sneaky when he dried his own hand on his pant leg. Oswald did the same, but did little to hide his discomfort. Before Oswald knew what was happening, there was cold water splattered on his clothes. His eyes squeezed shut on instinct. 

“Come on Oswald, jump in with me!” Jim called as he found an even deeper looking puddle than the first one. 

Oswald blinked a few times, was he seeing this properly? James Gordon, carelessly jumping into puddles in his backyard? Was this him taking him up on his earlier offer? He guessed he shouldn't be surprised. 

Oswald smiled and jumped in, landing on his left leg to spare his right leg the pain. Jim held his hand again, and they jumped into puddles together. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues right where the first part left off. It's short and almost entirely dialogue because I suck at description and prose in general.  
> Also the last bit is inspired by Schitt's Creek dialogue between David and Patrick. This show is just gold, seriously go and watch it lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for thekeyholder. Hope you like it!

Seeing Oswald's smile was everything Jim wanted and never even knew needed. He knew all the terrible things the gangster was capable of, but he also knew all the good things. And even though those two opposites were pretty leveled with each other, Jim couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Something inside him would always scream this was wrong, that he should keep pushing these feelings for Oswald further down. Inside him was also another voice, louder, more desperate and urgent, _kiss him._ _Make him smile._

The air they breathed was fresh and smelled of wet grass. Oswald's lips forming a gentle smile was what finally pulled him in. He gravitated towards Oswald. After spending so much time with the gangster, Jim had come to realize how human Oswald was. Oswald had needs and feelings, not just selfish ambitions like Jim was led to believe earlier in their criminal-cop relationship.

One of Oswald's needs, as Jim in all his detective glory had found out, was affection. Since his mother passed, and since Nygma had betrayed him not once or twice, but way too many times to count at this point, Oswald needed affection more than ever. 

Jim caught Oswald’s hand and gently pulled him close, almost in slow motion. Confusion painted Oswald's features, then understanding dawned. Jim sure hoped his face was tender enough to convey what he wanted. What he needed. 

His hands caressed their way up to Oswald's shoulders, then up his neck. He brushed a strand of dark hair behind Oswald's ear. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Oswald's cheek, the corner of his mouth touching the corner of Oswald's. He moved to kiss the other side, this time their lips touched a little more. He pulled back and looked at Oswald's face, looking for any signs that he wanted him to stop. But the gangsters eyes were closed as he waited. So Jim finally pressed gentle lips over Oswald's soft ones. He lingered there for a second before pulling away entirely. He took a deep breath and then an exhale just as deep. Like this single kiss drained him of every single stressful thought that plagued him. The rights and wrongs of this disappearing. Nothing mattered because that single kiss felt so right. He let out another breath that morphed into a breathless laugh. He fell to the ground, lying on the wet grass, limbs stretched out, relieved.

Oswald stood confused by Jim's actions. Raising a single eyebrow and tilting his head, he stared down at Jim for a moment. 

“You do know there’s already like, three earthworms crawling on you, right?” 

The corner of Jim’s eyes wrinkled as he smiled up at Oswald. He licked his lips as he sat up. 

“They’re harmless.”

Oswald looked so concerned, eyes wide, and a single eyebrow raised, judging. 

“Harmless, yes, sure, but they’re absolutely disgusting, Jim.”

Jim chuckled and shook his head. “Help me up?” he asked extending his hand for Oswald to take. 

Oswald rolled his eyes, but still took Jim’s hand. Jim got up almost entirely without Oswald’s help. They stood close to each other, neither minding they were less than a foot apart. Jim dusted his butt as much as he could, but his backside was completely damp. 

“You know for a second there I thought you would pull me down with you,” Oswald confessed. 

“I thought about it, but then…” he trailed off not wanting to voice his worries about Oswald’s leg. The last thing he wanted was a stabbing to ruin their moment. 

“I’m not frail.” 

“I know.”

“What’s going to happen to us, Jim?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, this, obviously, we can’t just… our lines of work are just-” 

Jim kissed Oswald mid-sentence. Lips on top of lips, no real movement to them, except for a light pucker. Jim brought his hand up to Oswald’s cheek, and pulled back slightly. 

“I don’t know, Oswald. But you’re honestly one of the nicest people I know, and you make me feel so good. I’ve… I’ve never felt like this before, there was always something lacking. I don’t plan on letting this go.” He grabbed Oswald forearm with his other hand and gave a gentle squeeze to reinforce his point. 

Oswald stood with his arms hanging at his sides. Jim could see the cogs moving as he thought deeply about this. If Jim thought too much this whole situation, he can only imagine what went through Oswald’s mind. 

“It won’t be easy,” Oswald starts, and Jim knows they won’t get this figured out in a day or even a week or months. But they will work it through, because ‘it won’t be easy’ is not a no. “But you also make me feel good and you’re a good person, Jim. I think… I think we can make this work.” 

Oswald gave him a shy smile before he tilted his head upwards and met Jim for another soft kiss. Jim’s hand caressed Oswald’s hair and he finally felt Oswald’s hands moving on him. Oswald rested his shy hands on the small of Jim’s back. A few soft pecks after, Jim pulled away a little again.

“I like this, and you know, I just, I said you make me  _ so  _ happy and that you’re a  _ nice _ person and you said ‘you’re a  _ good _ person’ and I just-” Jim started.

“I know, Jim.” Oswald kissed him again, the perfect distraction. 

But it wouldn’t work on Jim, as soon as the kiss was broken he continued, “I just need to hear you say it-”

“You’re a  _ good _ person, Jim Gordon.”

Jim groaned, “That’s not nice. But I guess I kinda deserved that,” he mumbled.

“It’s never too late for change,” Oswald smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and it wasn't too boring or cheesy lol
> 
> Find me @priscilakovu  
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!!


End file.
